


Falling Skies

by spectacularparker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, MCU Peter Parker, Minor Injuries, Night Terrors, Nightmares, PTSD, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Peter Parker, Reader-Insert, Sad, Whump, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 13:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectacularparker/pseuds/spectacularparker
Summary: Your body lying there in a puddle of blood.Peter’s head becoming light.Everything blurring.He couldn’t save you.





	Falling Skies

Peter gripped the edge of the bathroom counter, his knuckles turning a ghostly white against the dried blood on the top of them as his nails dug into his palms. Little indents greeting the rough and callous skin as his mind replayed the events of earlier. Peter’s hair was a total mess, sticking up in every direction from the way his mask was almost ripped off his face.

And a bruise started to form around his right eye of deep shades of blue and purples that seeped down onto his cheek and around his jawline. One that would take a good couple of days to fade away finally, and one that would have your full attention on it until it did. A few deep scratch marks stood out against his pale skin on his neck. The deep red lines faded into pink on the outside as Peter’s gaze moved from the white porcelain sink to the mirror.

He had underestimated Martin Li in every way and form for the first time in a while.

There was a part of Peter that Martin had managed to unlock with his hand on Peter’s wrist and with a single twist, sent Peter diving into his worst nightmare. The one that he had tucked away a couple of years of ago after the fight with Thanos happened, and took over his mind for a good year. The ones that he didn’t want to remember for the sake of trying to stay sane enough and keep the blood off his hands.

Those thoughts came flooding back to him with a sharp smack to the face. Welcoming him like an old friend that would not go away until he came to play with them, remembering every single ache, pain, and scream, Peter heard a couple of years. Bone cracking and blood caking his fingers and underneath his nails from the people he couldn’t save, from the people who needed him the most.

The thought begged him to lose control just once, and remember just how much heartache he had caused.

Peter spat into the sink a nasty mixture of saliva with blood from his bloody lip. Peter’s chest was rising and falling just enough to let himself know that he was in fact, still alive. And if you were in there, you would have told him he was being reckless again and to leave Martin alone. But there was no way Peter could let Martin get away with the plan he had overheard days prior. A plan that involved everyone in the city, possibly dying.

That was the blood that Peter did not need on his hands.

“Pete,” you said through the bathroom door.

And Peter heard the way your heart fluttered for just a second.

_**Hesitant.** _

_**Not sure of anything.** _

Probably didn’t help any that Peter rushed into the bathroom after he got home, leaving you confused sitting on your bed.

“You okay?”

There it was with a single shaky breath, but one that hid the confidence of you breaking down the bathroom door if Peter didn’t answer. He knew that tone all too well.

“Yeah, just finishing up,” he lied through clenched teeth the best he could.

The second you found out what Peter was up to with Martin Li and the fact that he had managed to get his butt handed to him, you would be jumping all over him again. Telling him to be more careful, and you can’t go after people cause you have a ‘bad gut’ feeling about them.

Oh, the things Peter wished you heard daily when he was Spider-Man. Things that would make you change your mind in a heartbeat.

Peter had made it his mission not to let you know every detail of what Martin Li was up to. Maybe it was him wanting to protect you when he wasn’t around, but maybe it had more to do with the fact that he didn’t trust Martin at all. Especially not with you currently helping Aunt May at the shelter when you got done with classes for the day. The last thing Peter wanted was for you to become Martin’s next target.

Peter’s jaw was clenched as he opened the bathroom door, peeking his head around it to see you sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking down at your phone. Content. Cozy. And with a heartbeat that didn’t sound like it was ready to kill him if he stepped out of the bathroom, but one that was more worried about him than anything else. Peter relaxed slightly when you looked up and met his gaze.

“C’mon mister superhero,” you laughed, placing your phone on the nightstand and patted the spot beside you. “You need a good night’s sleep.”

Peter chuckled while he walked over towards the bed. Trying his best to conceal the tingling sensation that ran through his left leg and made him limp slightly. “I need a lot more than sleep.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I’ve been worse,” Peter said, running his hand under his nose to make sure his nose wasn’t still bleeding before he climbed into bed next to you. “Much worse, this is just a scratch compared to anything else.”

“A scratch?” You asked while pushing back the covers enough to slip under them. And you gave him that look—the one that told him you weren’t buying what he was selling, but you were too tired to argue with him.  “That’s more than scratch.”

“Nah, that’s all it is,” Peter said, resting his head against the pillow, watching the way you fluffed up your own before you laid against them, looking at him.

Your fingers gently ran across his forehead and through his hair, something you did when you knew Peter was beyond stressed, and before he could tell you anything. Sometimes Peter swore you were the one with his heightened senses. Even after three years together, it still surprised him how fast you caught on to him not wanting to speak about certain things.

And maybe the injuries gave it away, but maybe it was cause Peter knew eventually that you would corner him in the morning and demand everything while making him pancakes or French toast to soften the blow in the morning. That he should be lucky that you aren’t grilling him right here and right now, but you always tried your hardest not to, and wait until the next day.

Peter closed his eyes to the sounds of humming.

_**A few hours of rest.** _

That’s all he needed as his mind started to drift off.

A few hours and he would sneak out of the bedroom to the living room to work on something while he let you sleep in.

_**A few—-** _

_Peter knelt on the ledge of a building right outside of where Martin Li’s guy should have been. He had been waiting for a couple of hours for anyone to show up, anyone that would lead him to Martin and not a run with his masked goons. It wasn’t like Peter had gone out looking for trouble that night. He was just ready to finally throw Martin behind bars and not have to worry about you. That was all Peter wanted…what he needed._

_“Stop yelling,” a harsh voice caught Peter’s attention as he turned to look at it._

_Four guys were surrounding two others. Nothing out of the ordinary for masked guys, and it was only when one of the moved too fast did Peter figure out who it was. Martin Li was finally with his guys, and Peter had finally caught on. His gaze following Martin as he walked into the building, jerking someone behind him._

_Not someone._

_You._

_Martin had taken you._

_But how?_

_That was impossible, you were supposed to be with your parents this weekend in Washington, D.C._

_Peter’s heart found its way into his ears._

_His throat closing up at the way you thrashed against Martin’s grips._

_Your screams piercing his eardrums._

_Peter’s hand twitching as he tried to remain calm._

_His blood boiling every time Martin’s hand landed on your shoulder to push you forwards._

_Hair standing up on Peter’s arm as he shot a web towards you and Martin._

_Guns scraping against the metal door._

_He needed to save you._

_He needed to get you to safety and away from Martin._

_A single gunshot._

_Two gunshots._

_Gun powered filling the air and Peter’s nostrils._

_Peter leaping from the building over._

_Multiple gunshots._

_A scream._

_An ear piercing scream._

_Your body tumbling to the ground._

_Peter not moving fast enough._

_Martin’s deep laugh. “I told you she would be the downfall of you.”_

Peter jerked his head to the side, rolling over to bury his face into the coldness of the pillow. Letting the softness of it engulf him from his nightmare and push against his clammy skin. His hands gathering sheets into them, and his nails digging into his palms as his foot kicked your shin as he turned back over, taking some of the covers with him this time.

_Another scream._

_Your screams over and over again._

_You begging Peter to save him._

Peter tossed over in the bed again. His body pressing up against you and his shoulder pressing into his ear to get it stop. Anything to get the thoughts to leave him.

His breathing becoming uneven.

Nails dragging across his chest to get the bugs off him.

Sirens going off in the distance.

Keys scraping against a lock.

Someone talking in a too high pitch of a voice from three blocks over.

_Your body lying there in a puddle of blood._

_Peter’s head becoming light._

_Everything blurring._

_He couldn’t save you._

Footsteps pounding on the floor above.

A vacuum seven doors over.

A pin dropping four floors below.

Heavy breathing coming from the guy three doors above.

_Peter’s feet were heavy as he rushed over towards you, picking up your lifeless body into his arm. His sight blurred from the tears that filled his eyes. Your blood seeped into his suit, staining his skin. Peter’s hand trembled as he held you tightly, demanding you to stay with him as he rocked the two of you back and forth._

The covers were ripped off your body and wrapped Peter up in makeshift cocoon as you opened your eyes to the dim city lights dancing along the hardwood floor of the bedroom.

“Peter,” you said, sitting up suddenly to see Peter’s hands twisted in the sheets underneath him and his head buried against the pillow and his shoulder, doing his best to block out everything. “Peter.”

_He couldn’t save you._

_He didn’t move fast enough to protect you._

_You were gone, and there was nothing left._

_Another death on his hands that he wasn’t ready for, one that he shouldn’t have had to see._

“Peter,” you said again with more authority as your hand landed on his shoulder and gave him a soft shake. “Peter, wake up.”

Peter tossed his head to the other side, soft whimpers escaping his lips. Beads of sweat formed on Peter’s forehead, matting down his hair and onto his pillow. You started to shake him gently at first and then with more force as Peter thrashed against the sheets with each breath he took.

His head constantly rolling back and forth with such force you were afraid he would snap his neck. Peter’s jaw tightened enough that you saw the veins in his face and neck, and his palms had started to bleed from the pressure of his nails pressing into them.

“Peter!” You yelled, shaking him with everything you had inside of you this time. “Wake up, Peter.” You tried to get the blanket out of from around him, but his grip was stronger than it was most nights when this happened. “You gotta wake up.”

Peter jerked up, almost head-butting you if you hadn’t fallen onto your back from it all. His eyes wide, tears forming behind them and sweat running down his forehead and dripping onto the sheets below. His chest was rising and falling at a pace that you couldn’t even count to one second before it started again. His skin turned a light shade of red from the way he thrashed around and clawed at himself while you were asleep.

“No,” Peter said, scrambling towards the head of the bed with the covers still in his hand. “No, no,” he shook his head as he wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself tightly to get out this nightmare.

“Peter,” you spoke slowly and softly and carefully moved towards him. Afraid that one wrong move would send him over the edge and you weren’t sure how to bring him back this time around.

“No,” he snapped as his body started to trembled and choking on his sobs. “You’re dead, you died, I watched you—you died in my arms.”

You tilted your head to the side, taking in the way Peter’s eyes were glossed over. His breathing so uneven that you were afraid he would pass out soon, and how he couldn’t control the tremors coursing through his body.

It dawned on you what Peter was going through as you hopped off the bed, pulling the curtains that May had made for you and him to block out the sound and light from outside before you made your way towards the door and closed it.  

Peter’s gaze never left you, and the way your body floated around with such ease that he started to believe he was losing his mind. There was no way you could be here, and he knew it as he glanced down at his chest to see it still covered in your blood. It should have been dripping from your chest where the single gunshot wound pierced your heart.

_**You should not be walking around like you are perfectly fine.** _

_**You weren’t.** _

_**You were supposed to be dead.** _

“I’m very much alive,” you said while climbing back up on the bed and moving towards Peter with caution.

But Peter pushed himself against the headboard again. His head smacked against the wood frame.

“Pete, breathe.” You reached out to cup his cheek, and Peter flinched against your palm. “Breathe, babe,” you said, sitting up on your knees as you brought your other hand to his cheek, blocking out everything in an already dark room. “Focus, Peter.”

_**Focus.** _

Peter closed his eyes, and everything was quiet—finally. No sounds were competing for his attention anymore. Nothing was demanding him to feel every inch of pain that was inside his head. Nothing more than an empty apartment with you and him. With your breathing in his ears and his heart pounding in his head.

You reached for Peter’s hand, placing it on your chest. “Listen, feel.”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Blood rushing through your veins.

Air filling your lungs.

Words were coming out of your mouth that Peter couldn’t make out.

Breathing.

In.

Out.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

You were very much alive.

“Y/N?” Peter asked, his voice breaking as tears rolled down his cheek.

“It’s me,” you said as Peter’s body crashed into yours. “It’s very much me, Pete.”

Your arms wrapped around him, tears staining your cotton shirt as you started to rub small circles in the middle of his back. Peter’s body trembled, his grip not letting you go as he buried his head deeper into your shoulder, and your fingers threaded through his hair to massage his scalp.

You were alive.

You were here.

Nothing else mattered.

Everything was in his head.

Peter leaned back slightly to get a better look at you to make sure his head wasn’t playing with him.

_**There was no blood on you.** _

_**No bullet hole.** _

You were in one piece, holding him tightly to you.

You were safe as long as you were here with him.

He was safe as long he was with you.

“Peter,” you raised his chin to meet your gaze, “what happened tonight?”

He shook his head, more tears welling up in his eyes as more rolled down his crimson cheeks. “Martin, he—I just—-please stay safe.”

You sighed, knowing better than to push him with everything that just happened. The way Peter’s eyes were still hazed over in fear, but at least he was out of his head for the most part. And right now that’s what the two of you needed more than anything. For Peter to at least not let the nightmares get worse, and for him to realize when they weren’t real. That’s what needed to happen tonight before he did something to hurt himself from believing the thoughts that trickled into his mind.

But more than anything, Peter needed sleep.

“We’re talking in the morning,” you said as you went to lay back down, and pulled Peter down beside you. “You’re telling me everything, or else I’m telling May, and you know what that means.”

“Everything,” Peter’s lips brushed against your cheek as he curled up closer to you. “With pancakes?”

“Just get some sleep, and I’ll think about the pancakes.” You pressed a kiss onto the top of Peter’s head, staying awake until you heard soft snores escaping his lips before you fell asleep.


End file.
